JOBIVBRSITY  OF 
SSQRTH  CAROLINA 
lehool  of  lr.  orary 
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SLOVENLY  PETER 


OR 


CHEERFUL    STORIES 


AND 


FUNNY  PICTURES 


FOR  GOOD  LITTLE  FOLKS 

ILLUSTRATIONS  COLORED  BY  HAND 

AFTER  THE 

ORIGINAL  STYLE 


PHILADELPHIA: 

THE   JOHN    C.  WINSTON    CO. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/slovenlypeterorchoff 


s 


SLOVENLY  PETER 

or 

CHEERFUL  STORIES 

AND 

FUNNY   PICTURES 


When  children  have  been  good, 
That  is,  be  it  understood, 
Good  at  meal-times,  good  at  play, 
Good  at  night,  and  good  all  day, — 
They  shall  have  the  pretty  things 
Merry  Christmas  always  brings 
Naughty,  romping  girls  and  boys 
Tear  their  clothes  and  make  a  noise, 
Soil  their  aprons  and  their  frocks, 
And  deserve  no  Christmas-box. 
Such  as  these  shall  never  look 
At  this  pretty  Picture-Book. 


PHILADELPHIA:  THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  COMPANY 


803704 


SLOVENLY   PETER 


See  Slovenly  Peter!      Here  he  stands, 

With  his  dirty  hair  and  hands. 

See!  his  nails  are  never  cut; 

They  are  grim'd  as  black  as  soot; 

No  water  for  many  weeks, 

Has  been  near  his  cheeks; 

And  the  sloven,  I  declare, 

Not  once  this  j^ear  has  combed  his  hair! 

Anything  to  me  is  sweeter 

Than  to  see  shock-headed  Peter. 


THE  STORY  OF  CRUEL  FREDERICK 


This  Frederick!  this  Frederick! 

A  naughty,  wicked  boy  was  he; 

He  caught  the  flies,  poor  little  things, 

And  then  tore  off  their  tiny  wings; 

He  kill'd  the  birds,  and  broke  the  chairs, 

And  threw  the  kitten  down  the  stairs; 

And  oh!   far  worse  and  worse, 

He  whipp'd  his  good  and  gentle  nurse! 


THE  STORY  OF  CRUEL  FREDERICK 


The  trough  was  full,  and  faithful  Tra}' 
Came  out  to  drink  one  sultry  day; 
He  wagg'd  his  tail,  and  wet  his  Up, 
When  cruel  Fred  snatch'd  up  a  whip, 
And  whipp'd  poor  Tray  till  he  was  sore, 
And  kick'd  and  whipp'd  him  more  and 

more; 
At  this,  good  Tray  grew  very  red, 
And  growl'd  and  bit  him  till  he  bled; 
Then  you  should  only  have  been  by, 
To  see  how  Fred  did  scream  and  cry ! 


THE  STORY  OF  CRUEL  FREDERICK 


So  Frederick  had  to  go  to  bed; 
His  leg  was  very  sore  and  red! 
The  Doctor  came  and  shook  his  head, 
And  made  a  very  great  to-do, 
And  gave  him  bitter  physic  too. 


But  good  dog  Tray  is  happy  now; 
He  has  no  time  to  say  "bow-wow!" 
He  seats  himself  in  Frederick's  chair, 
And    laughs  to  see  the  nice  things  there: 
The  soup  he  swallows,  sup  by  sup, — ■ 
And  eats  the  pies  and  puddings  up. 


a 
a 


THE    DREADFUL  STORY  OF    PAULINE  AND   THE    MATCHES 


Mamma  and  Nurse  went  out  one  day, 
And  left  Pauline  alone  at  play; 
Around  the  room  she  gayly  sprung, 
Clapp'd  her  hands,  and  danced,  and  sung. 
Now,  on  the  table  close  at  hand, 
A  box  of  matches  chanc'd  to  stand, 
And  kind  Mamma  and  Nurse  had  told  her, 
That  if  she  touch'd  them  they  would  scold 

her; 
But  Pauline  said,  "Oh,  what  a  pity! 
For,  when  they  burn,  it  is  so  pretty; 
They  crackle  so,  and  spit,  and  flame; 
And  Mamma  often  burns  the  same. 
I'll  just  light  a  match  or  two 
As  I  have  often  seen  my  mother  do." 

When  Minz    and  Maunz,  the  pussy-cats, 

heard  this 
They  held  up  their  paws  and  began  to  hiss. 
"Me-ow!"  they  said,  "me-ow,  me-o! 
You'll  burn  to  death,  if  you  do  so, 
Your  parents  have    forbidden    you,  you 

know. " 

But  Pauline  would  not  take  advice, 
She  lit  a  match,  it  was  so  nice! 
It  crackled  so,  it  burn'd  so  clear, — 
Exactly  like  the  picture  here. 
She  jump'd  for  joy  and  ran  about, 
And  was  too  pleas'd  to  put  it  out. 

When  Minz    and  Maunz,   the    little    cats, 

saw  this, 
They  said,  "Oh,  naughty,  naughty  Miss!" 
And  stretch'd  their  claws, 
And  rais'd  their  paws; 
"  'Tis  very,  very  wrong,  you  know; 
Me-ow,  me-o,  me-ow,  me-o! 
You  will  be  burnt  if  you  do  so, 
Your   mother   has    forbidden   you,    you 

know. " 


Now  see!  oh!  see,  what  a  dreadful  thing, 
The  fire  has  caught   her  apron-string; 
Her  apron  burns,  her  arms,  her  hair; 
She  burns  all  over,  everywhere. 

Then  how  the  pussy-cats  did  mew, 
What  else,  poor  pussies,  could  they  do? 
They  scream'd  for  help,  'twas  all  in  vain, 
So  then,  they  said,  "We'll  scream  again. 
Make  haste,  make  haste !  me-ow !  me-o ! 
She'll  burn  to  death, — we  told  her   so." 


So  she  was  burnt  with  all  her    clothes, 
a  And  arms  and  hands,  and  eyes  and  nose; 
Till  she  had  nothing  more  to  lose 
Except  her  little  scarlet  shoes; 
And  nothing  else  but   these  was  found 
Among  her  ashes  on  the  ground. 

And  when  the  good  cats  sat  beside 
The  smoking  ashes,  how  they  cried! 
"Me-ow,  me-o!    Me-ow,  me-oo! 
What  will  Mamma  and  Nursy  doi"' 
Their  tears  ran  down  their  cheeks  so  fast, 
They  made  a  little  pord  at  last. 


p-O 


THE   STORY    OF   THE   INKY    BOYS 


As  he  had  often  done  before, 

The  woolly-headed  black-a-moor 

One  nice  fine  summer's  day  went  out 

To  see  the  shops  and  walk  about; 

And  as  he  found  it  hot,  poor  fellow, 

He  took  with  him  his  green  umbrella. 

Then  Edward,  little  noisy  wag, 

Ran  out  and  laugh'd,  and  waved  his  flag, 

And  William  came  in  jacket  trim, 

And  brought  his  wooden  hoop  with  him; 

And  Caspar,  too,  snatch'd  up  his  toys 

And  joined  the  other  naughty  boys; 

So  one  and  all  set  up  a  roar, 

And  laughed  and  hooted  more  and  more, 

And  kept  on  singing, — only  think! — 

"Oh!  Blacky,  you're  as  black  as  ink." 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INKY  BOYS 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INKY  BOYS 


Then  Saint  Nicholas  foams  with  rage: 
Look  at  him  on  this  very  page! 
He  seizes  Caspar,  seizes  Ned, 
Takes  William  by  his  little  head; 
And  they  may  scream,  and  kick,  and 
But  into  the  ink  he  dips  them  all; 
Into  the  inkstand,  one,  two,  three, 
Till  they  are  black,  as  black  can  be; 
Turn  over  now  and  you  shall  see. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INKY  BOYS 


THE   STORY   OF  THE   WILD   HUNTSMAN 


This  is  the  Wild  Huntsman  that  shoots  the  hares ; 
With  the  grass-green  coat  he  always  wears: 
With  game-bag,  powder-horn  and  gun, 
He's  going  out  to  have  some  fun. 
He  finds  it  hard,  without  a  pair 
Of  spectacles,  to  shoot  the  hare: 
He    put    his    spectacles    upon    his 

and  said, 
^'Now  I  will    shoot    the   hares,   and 

them  dead." 


nose 


The  hare  sits  snug  in  leaves  and  grass, 
And  laughs  to  see  the  green  man  pass. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 


The  green  man  wakes,  and  sees  her  place 
The  spectacles  upon  her  face. 
She  pointed  the  gun  at  the  hunter's  heart, 
Who  jumped  up  at  once  with  a  start. 
He  cries,  and  screams,  and  runs  away, 
"Help  me,  good  people,  help!  I  pray." 


At  last  he  stumbled  at  the  well, 

Head  over  ears,  and  in  he  fell. 

The  hare  stopp'd  short,  took  aim,  and  hark! 

Bang  went  the  gun! — she  miss'd  her  mark! 

The  poor  man's  wife  was  drinking  up 

Her  coffee  in  her  coffee-cup; 

The  gun  shot  cup  and  saucer  through; 

"0  dear!"  cried  she,  "what  shall  I  do?" 

Hiding  close  by  the  cottage  there, 

Was  the  hare's  own  child,  the  little  hare; 

When  he  heard  the  shot,  he  quickly  arose, 

And  while  he  stood  upon  his  toes, 

The  coffee  fell  and  burn'd  his  nose; 

"0  dear,''  he  cried,  "what  burns  me  so?" 

And  held  up  the  spoon  with  his  little  toe. 


THE   STORY   OF   LITTLE   SUCK=A=THUMB 


One  day,  Mamma  said,  "  Conrad  dear, 
I  must  go  out  and  leave  you  here. 
But  mind  now,  Conrad,  what  I  say, 
Don't    suck    your  thumb    while    I'm 

away. 
The  great  tall  tailor  always  comes 
To  little  boys  that  suck  their  thumbs; 
And  ere  they  dream  what  he's  about, 
He  takes  his  great  sharp  scissors  out 
And  cuts  their  thumbs  clean  off, — and 

then 
You  know,  they  never  grow  again." 


Mamma  had  scarcely  turn'd  her  back, 
The  thumb  was  in,  alack!  alack! 


The  door  flew  open,  in  he  ran,  /^ 

The    great,  long,    red-legged   scissor-  (^>^w^% 
man.  J 

Oh!  children,  see!  the  tailor's  come 
And  caught  our  little   Suck-a-Thumb. 
Snip!  Snap!   Snip!  the  scissors  go; 
And  Conrad  cries  out — Oh !  Oh !   Oh ! 
Snip!  Snap!  Snip!  They  go  so  fast; 
That  both  his  thumbs  are  off  at  last. 


Mamma    comes   home;   there    Conrad    stands, 
And  looks  quite  sad,  and  shows  his  hands; — 
"Ah!"   said  Mamma,  "I  knew  he'd   come 
To  naughty  little  Suck-a-Thumb." 


THE  5T0RY  OF  AUGUSTUS  WHO  WOULD  NOT  HAVE  ANY  SOUP 


Augustus  was  a  chubby  lad; 
Fat  ruddy  cheeks  Augustus  had; 
And  everybody  saw  with  joy 
The  plump  and  hearty  healthy  boy. 
He  ate  and  drank  as  he  was  told, 
And  never  let  his  soup  get  cold. 
But  one  day,  one  cold  winter's  day, 
He  threw  away  the  spoon  and  screamed : 
"  0  take  the  nasty  soup  away ! 
I  won't  have  any  soup  to-day: 
I  will  not,  will  not  eat  my  soup! 
I  will  not  eat  it,  no!" 

Next  day,   now  look,  the  picture  shows 
How  lank  and  lean  Augustus  grows ! 
Yet,  though  he  feels  so  weak  and  ill, 
The  naughty  fellow  cries  out  still — 
"  Not  any  soup  for  me,  I  say ! 

0  take  the  nasty  soup  away! 

1  will  not,  will  not  eat  my  soup! 
I  will  not  eat  it,  no!" 

The  third  day  comes.     0  what  a  sin! 
To  make  himself  so  pale  and  thin. 
Yet,  when  the  soup  is  put  on  table, 
He  screams,  as  loud  as  he  is  able — 
"  Not  any  soup  for  me,  I  say ! 
0  take  the  nasty  soup  away! 

I  won't  have  any  soup  to-day!" 

Look    at     him,    now    the    fourth 

day's  come! 
He  scarce  outweighs  a  sugar-plum; 
He's  like  a  little  bit  of  thread; 
And  on  the  fifth  day  he  was — deadi 


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THE   STORY   OF   FIDGETY   PHILIP 


"  Let  me  see  if  Philip  can 

Be  a  little  gentleman; 

Let  me  see  if  he  is  able 

To  sit  still  for  once  at  table." 

Thus  spoke,  in  earnest  tone, 

The  father  to  his  son; 

And  the  mother  looked  very  grave 

To  see  Philip  so  misbehave. 

But  Philip  he  did  not  mind 

His  father  who  was  so  kind. 

He  wriggled 

And  giggled, 

And  then,  I  declare, 

Swung  backward  and  forward 

And  tilted  his  chair, 

Just  like  any  rocking  horse; — 

"Philip!   I  am  getting  cross!" 


THE   STORY   OF  FIDGETY    PHILIP 


See  the  naughty,  restless  child, 
Growing    still    more    rude    and    wild, 
Till  his  chair  falls  over  quite. 
Philip    screams    with    all    his    might, 
Catches  at  the  cloth,  but  then 
That  makes  matters  worse  again. 
Down  upon  the  ground  they  fall, 
Glasses,  bread,  knives,  forks  and  all. 
How  Mamma  did  fret  and  frown, 
When  she  saw  them  tumbling  down! 
And  Papa  made  such  a  face! 
Pliilip  is  in  sad  disgrace. 


THE  STORY   OF   FIDGETY   PHILIP 


Where  is  Philip?     Where  is  he? 
Fairly  cover'd  up,  you  see! 
Cloth  and  all  are  lying  on  him; 
He  has  pull'd  down  all  upon  him! 
What  a  terrible  to-do! 
Dishes,  glasses,  snapt  in  two! 
Here  a  knife,  and  there  fork! 
Philip,  this  is  naughty  work. 
Table  all  so  bare,  and  ah! 
Poor  Papa,  and  poor  Mamma 
Look  quite  cross,  and  wonder  how 
They  shall  make  their  dinner  now. 


THE   STORY    OF  JOHNNY    LOOK-IN-THE  =  AIR 


aSS 


As  he  trudg'd  along  to  school, 

It  was  always  Johnny's  rule 

To  be  looking  at  the  sky 

And  the  clouds  that  floated  by; 

But  what  just  before  him  lay, 

In  his  way, 

Johnny  never  thought  about; 

So  that  every  one  cried  out — 

"Look  at  little  Johnny  there, 

Little  Johnny  Head-In- Air!" 

Running  just  in  Johnny's  way, 

Came  a  little  dog  one  day; 

Johnny's  eyes  were  still  astray 

Up  on  high, 

In  the  sky; 

And  he  never  heard  them  cry — 

"Johnny,  mind,  the  dog  is  nigh!" 

What  happens  now? 

Bump ! 

Dump! 

Down  they  fell,  with  such  a  thump, 

Dog  and  Johnny  in  a  lump! 

They  almost  broke  their  bones 

So  hard  they  tumbled  on  the  stones. 


THE   STORY   OF  JOHNNY   LOOK-IN-THE-AIR 


Once,  with  head  as  high  as  ever, 

Johnny  walked  beside  the  river. 

Johnny  watch'd  the  swallows  trying 

Which  was  cleverest  at  flying. 

Oh!  what  fun! 

Johnny  watch'd  the  bright  round  sun 

Going  in  and  coming  out; 

This  was  all  he  thought  about. 

So  he  strode  on,  only  think! 

To  the  river's  very  brink, 

Where  the  bank  was  high  and  steep, 

And  the  water  very  deep; 

And  the  fishes,  in  a  row, 

Stared  to  see  him  coming  so. 


One  step  more!  Oh!  sad  to  tell! 
Headlong  in  poor  Johnny  fell. 
The  three  little  fishes,  in  dismay, 
Wagg'd  their  tails  and  swam  away 


THE   STORY  OF  JOHNNY  LOOK-IN-THE-AIR 


There  lay  Johnny  on  his  face; 

With  his  nice  red  writing-case; 

But,  as  they  were  passing  by, 

Two  strong  men  had  heard  him  cry; 

And,  with  sticks,  these  two  strong  men 

Hook'd  poor  Johnny  out  again. 


Oh!  you  should  have  seen  him  shiver 
When  they  pull'd  him  from  the  river 
He  was  in  a  sorry  plight, 
Dripping  wet,  and  such  a  fright! 
Wet  all  over,  everywhere, 
Clothes,  and  arms,  and  face,  and  hair; 
Johnny  never  will  forget 
What  it  is  to  be  so  wet. 

And  the  fishes,  one,  two,  three, 
Are  come  back  again,  you  see; 
Up  they  came  the  moment  after, 
To  enjoy  the  fun  and  laughter. 
Each  popp'd  out  his  little  head, 
And,  to  tease  poor  Johnny,  said, 
"Silly  little  Johnny,  look, 
You  have  lost  your  writing-book  1" 
Look  at  them  laughing,  and  do  you  see? 
His  satchel  is  drifting  far  out  to  sea! 


THE  STORY  OF   FLYING    ROBERT 


What  a  wind!  Oh!  how  it  whistles 
Through   the    trees    and    flow'rs    and 

thistles. 
It  has  caught  his  red  umbrella; 
Now  look  at  him,  silly  fellow, 
Up  he  flies 
To  the  skies. 

No  one  heard  his  screams  and  cries; 
Through    the   clouds    the    rude    wind 

bore  him, 
And  his  hat  flew  on  before  him. 


When  the  rain  comes  tumbling  down 

In  the  country  or  the  town, 

All  good  little  girls  and  boys 

Stay  at  home  and  mind  their  toys. 

Robert  thought, — "  No,  when  it  pours, 

It  is  better  out  of  doors." 

Rain  it  did,  and  in  a  minute 

Bob  was  in  it. 

Here  you  see  him,  silly  fellow, 

Underneath  his  red  umbrella. 


% 


Soon  they  got  to  such  height, 

They  were  nearly  out  of  sight! 

And  the  hat  went  up  so  high, 

That  it  almost  touch'd  the  sky. 

No  one  ever  yet  could  tell 

Where  they  stopp'd,  or  where  they  fell; 

Only  this  one  thing  is  plain, 

Rob  was  never  seen  again! 


THE   LITTLE  JACOB 


The  little  Jacob  was  so  small, 

He  could  no  smaller  be; 
When  he  took  off  his  little  coat 

Just  like  a  stick  looked  he. 
His  parents,  therefore,  anxious  were 

About  their  little  Jake, 
And  said,  "Oh,  dear!  what  can  we  do 

Our  Jacob  fat  to  make? 
All  sorts  of  nice  things  we  must  get 

For  our  dear  boy  to  eat; 
Meats  boiled  and  roasted,  baked  and  fried, 

And  pies  and  puddings  sweet. 
And  then,  besides,  we'll  let  him  drink 

Plenty  of  wine  and  beer;  « 

And  if  this  does  not  make  him  fat, 

Why  nothing  will,  we  fear." 
This,  diet,  then,  they  put  him  on, 

And  soon,  to  their  great  joy, 
They  found  that  fat  and  fatter  grew 

Their  darling  little  boy. 
When  six  months  passed,  and  he  had  grown 

Fat  as  you  see  him  here, 
His  parents  said,   "You  need  not  now 

Eat  quite  so  much,  my  dear; 
For,  oh!  if  you  become  too  fat, 

We  then  may  try  in  vain, 
Unless  we  give  you  bitter  pills, 

To  make  you  thin  again." 


But  Jacob  would  not  then  obey 

He  only  ate  the  more, 
Until,  at  length,  he  grew  as  fat 

As  he  was  thin  before. 
One  day  a  hearty  meal  he  made, 

But  still  was  not  content; 
Cake,  wine,  and  beer,  he  slyly  took, 

And  to  the  fields  he  went. 
There,  for  a  while,  like  any  pig, 

He  ate  and  drank  alone, 
But  suddenly  his  mother  heard 

Her  little  Jacob  moan. 
Out  of  the  house,  off  to  the  fields 

Swift  as  a  flash  she  flew; 
Alas!  alas!  what  saw  she  there? 

Her  Jacob  broke  in  two. 
I'll  say  this  much  to  boys  and  girls 

If  they  be  thick  or  thin, 
That,  be  this  story  true  or  false, 

Sure  gluttony's  a  sin. 


FRANK,   THE    LIAR 


Come  listen  while  I  tell  you  now, ' 

About  a  certain  youth, 
Who  had  one  dreadful,  dreadful  fault, 

He  never  told  the  truth. 
And  while  he  uttered  lies  he  was 

So  handy  and  so  bold, 
That  he  appeared  as  innocent 

As  if  the  truth  he  told. 
One  morning,  faithful  Tray  was  found 

Upon  the  pavement  dead, 
And  Frank  had  killed  him  with  a  stone, 

His  little  comrades  said. 
"  'Twas  you  who  killed  the  dog,"  cried  Frank, 

"What  stories  you  do  tell;" 
But  soon  the  fact  was  proved  on  him, 

And  his  father  whipped  him  well. 


One  day  into  the  room  he  rushed, — 

His  eyes  were  glowing,  cheeks  were  flushed, 

"Oh!  mother,  father,  dear,"  he  said, 

"  My  little  sisters  both  are  dead ! 

Emma  fell  down  and  broke  her  back, 

And  little  Fan  her  skull  did  crack!" 

The  parents  were  distracted  nearly, 

They  loved  their  little  girls  so  dearly; 

But  scarce  the  words  had  from  him  slipped. 

When  in  the  little  sisters  tripped. 

The  parents'  joy  now  who  can  tell? 

And  Frank  again  they  punished  well. 


One  night,  when  all  had  gone  to  bed, 

Frank  took  it  in  his  little  head 

That  he  the  people  would  affright, 

By  crying  fire  with  all  his  might. 

"Fire!  fire!"  he  screamed.     Oh,  then  'twas  fun 

For  him  to  see  the  people  run. 

"Fire!  fire!  turn  out!  where  is  it — where?" 

They  cried ;  he  answered,  "  There !  there !  there !" 

Till,  finding  they  had  been  deceived 

And  feeling  very  much  aggrieved, 

They  poured  upon  the  little  liar 

The  water  destined  for  the  fire. 


When  to  his  home  he  came  again, 

He  tried  to  speak,  but  'twas  in  vain; 

Dreadful  to  tell,  he  had  become 

Through  cold  and  fright  quite  deaf  and  dumb. 

For  a  whole  year  he  spoke  no  word; 

No  sound  in  this  long  time  he  heard; 

When  suddenly  one  day  he  tried 

To  speak,  and  found  his  tongue  untied. 

With  joy  his  voice  again  he  hears, — ■ 

He  scarcely  can  believe  his  ears; 

But  greater  was  the  parents'  joy 

To  find  their  son  a  truthful  boy; 

For  from  that  time  he  never  spoke 

An  untrue  word,  or  played  a  joke. 


TOM,   THE  THIEF 


The  village  clock  is  striking  eight, 

And  children,  each  with  book  f_nd  slate, 

Are  hurrying  off  to  school. 
They  linger  not  to  talk  or  play, 
But  hasten  forward  on  their  way — 

Such  is  the  teacher's  rule. 


And  there  is  Tom,  whose  empty  head 
Is  with  a  great  big  cap  o'erspread. 

But  see;   he  turns  aside; 
He  scorns  the  sweets  that  knowledge  yields 
And  oft  prefers  to  roarn  the  fields 

From  morn  till  eventide. 
Oft  too  the  warblers  of  the  air 
Are  tangled  in  some  secret  snare, 

Spread  by  this  naughty  boy; 
But  darker  deeds  and  thievish  gains 
Now  occupy  his  little  brains, 

And  all  his  thoughts  employ. 


He  ponders  deep,  he  ponders  long; 
Says  he,  "The  teacher  is  among 

His  pupils  and  his  books; 
What  danger  if  at  such  a  time 
I  tiy  his  apple-trees  to  climb? 

No  eye  upon  me  looks." 


So  o'er  the  garden  wall  he  went, 
And  to  a  tree  his  footsteps  bent, 

Whose  excellence  he  knew; 
Where  many  an  apple  ripe  and  red, 
All  temptingly  above  his  head, 

In  rich  profusion  grew. 


Now  mark  this  naught}'  little  lad, 
While  busied  in  a  deed  so  bad, 

How  full  he  is  of  fear. 
He  looks  about  with  anxious  eyes, 
Before,  behind,  he  peeps  and  pries, 

Lest  some  one  should  be  near. 
But  finding  all  is  safe  around, 
His  hat  and  coat  upon  the  ground 

With  eager  haste  he  throws; 
Then  with  both  hands  the  trunk  he  grasps, 
With  both  his  knees  he  tightly  clasps, 

And  up  the  tree  he  goes. 


But,  oh!  what  language  can  express 
Th'  alarm  and  horrible  distress 

That  racks  poor  Tommy's  mind, 
To  feel  some  strange  mysterious  force 
Arrest  him  in  his  upward  course, 

By  seizing  him  behind! 
O'erwhehned  with  fear  at  once  he  stops, 
And  almost  from  the  tree  he  drops 

Down  to  the  ground  beneath; 
For,  looking  round  to  know  the  cause, 
He  sees  the  bull-dog's  open  jaws, 

And  sees  his  glittering  teeth. 


W^-OTB 


Aloud  he  shouts,  aloud  he  bawls, 
And  long  for  help  he  vainly  calls; 

No  rescuing  friend  appears. 
At  length,  despite  the  children's  noise, 
The  echoes  of  his  suppliant  voice 

Strike  on  the  teacher's  -ears. 
Quickly  he  hastens  out  to  see 
What  in  the  world  the  cause  can  be 

Of  such  uproarious  cries, 
And  looking  o'er  the  garden  wall, 
Beholds  the  thief,  the  dog  and  all, 

With  horror  and  surprise. 


Nor  stood  he  long  with  wonder  mute; 
A  word  to  the  obedient  brute 

At  once  gives  Tom  relief. 
But  ever  since  that  luckless  morn, 
Object  of  universal  scorn, 

He's  nick-named — Tom  the  Thief. 


HOW   IT   HAPPENED    TO    LAZY   CHARLOTTE 


"Here,  Charlotte,"  said  Mamma  one  day, 
"These  stockings  knit  while  I'm  away; 
And  should  you  fail,  be  sure  3'ou'h1  find 
Mamma  is  strict,  although  she's  kind." 


But  Charlotte  took  a  lazy  fit, 
And  did  not  feel  inclined  to  knit; 
And  soon  upon  the  ground  let  fall 
Needles,  and  worsted,  hose,  and  all. 


"I  shall  not  knit,"  said  she,  "not  I; 

At  least  not  now,  but  by  and  by;" 

Then  stretched,  and  yawned,  and  rubbed  her  eyes, 

Like  sluggards,  when  'tis  time  to  rise. 


-^7 


^urjv 


e    But  when  Mamma  came  home, 
J        and  found 

y     The  work  all  strewed  upon  the 
ground, 
Quoth  she,  "  You  will  not  knit, 

and  so 
To  school  barefooted  you  shall 
go." 

This   put   poor   Charlotte   in   a 

fright, 
And  though  she  knew  it  served 

her  right, 
She    wept,     and     begged,    and 

prayed;  but  still 
She     could     not     change     her 

mother's  will. 


V 


To  school,  where  all  were  spruce  and 

neat, 
Poor  Charlotte  went  with  naked  feet. 
Some   showed  their    pity,   some   their 

pride, 
While  Charlotte  hid  her  face  and  cried. 


THE  STORY   OF   ROMPING   POLLY 


"  I  pray  you  now,  my  little  child, " 

Thus  once  a  kind  old  lady 
Spoke  to  her  niece  in  accents  mild, 

"Do  try  to  be  more  steady. 
I  know  that  you  will  often  see 

Rude  boys  push,  drive,  and  hurry; 
But  little  girls  should  never  be 

All  in  a  heat  and  flurry." 

While  thus  the  lady  gave  advice, 

And  lectured  little  Polly, 
To  see  her  stand  with  downcast  eyes, 

You'd  think  she  owned  her  folly. 
She  did,  and  many  a  promise  made; 

But  when  her  aunt  departed, 
Forgetting  all,  the  merry  maid 

Off  to  the  play-ground  started. 
Now  see  what  frolic  and  what  fun 

The  little  folks  are  after; 
Away  they  jump,  away  they  run, 

With  many  a  shout  of  laughter. 


^lILJ 


^f^ 


In  sore  amaze,  the  standers  by 

Soon  placed  her  on  a  barrow. 
But,  oh!   to  hear  her  scream  and  cry 

Their  inmost  souls  did  harrow. 
See  how  her  brother  bursts  in  tears, 

When  told  the  dreadful  story; 
And  see  how  carefully  he  bears 

The  limb  all  wet  and  gory. 
Full  many  a  week,  screwed  up  in  bed, 

She  lingered  sad  and  weary; 
And  went  on  crutches,  it  is  said, 

Ev'n  to  the  grave  so  dreary. 


THE  CRY=BABY 


"O,  why  are  you  always  so  bitterly  crying? 

You  surely  will  make  yourself  blind. 
What  reason  on  earth  for  such  sobbing  and 
sighing, 
I  pray  can  you  possibly  find? 
'Tis  no  real  sorrow,  'tis  nothing  distressing, 
That  makes  you  thus  grieve  and  lament. 
All!  no;  you  are  even  this  moment  possessing 

Whatever  should  make  you  content. 
Now   do,    my   dear   daughter,    give   over   this 
weeping." 
Such  was  a  kind  mother's  advice. 
But  all  was  in  vain;  for  you  see  she's  still  keep- 
ing 
Her  handkerchief  up  to  her  eyes. 
But  now  she  removes  it ;  and  oh !  she  discloses 

A  countenance  full  of  dismay; 
For  she  certainly  feels,  or  at  least  she  supposes, 

Her  eyesight  is  going  away. 
She  is  not  mistaken,  her  sight  is  departing; 

She  knows  it,  and  sorrows  the  more; 
Then  rubs  her  sore  eyes,  to  relieve  them  from 
smarting, 
And  makes  them  still  worse  than  before. 
And  now  the  poor  creature  is  cautiously  crawl- 
ing, 
And  feeling  her  way  all  around; 
And  now  from  their  sockets  her  eyeballs  are 
falling ; 
See,  there  they  are,  down  on  the  ground. 
My  children,  from  such  an  example  take  warn- 
ing, 
And  happily  live  while  you  may; 
And  say  to  yourselves,  when  you  rise  in  the 
morning, 
"I'll  try  to  be  cheerful  to-day." 


■»      ■^J- 


SOPHY  SPOILALL 


I  never  saw  a  girl  or  boy 

So  prone  as  Sophy  to  destroy 

Whate'er  she  laid  her  hands  upon, 

Though  tough  as  wood,  or  hard  as  stone; 

No  matter  who  the  thing  might  claim, 

With  Sophy  it  was  all  the  same; 

No  matter  were  it  choice  or  rare, 

For  naught  did  the  destroyer  care. 

Her  playthings  shared  the  common  lot; 

Though  hers  they  were  she  spared  them  not. 

Her  dolls  she  oft  tore  limb  from  limb, 

To  gratify  her  foolish  whim. 

"Fie!"    said  her  mother,  "don't  you  know, 

That  if  you  use  your  playthings  so, 

Kriss  Kringle  will  in  wrath  refuse 

To  give  you  what  you  thus  abuse? 

Remember,  how  in  years  gone  by, 

You've  always  found  a  rich  supply 

Of  Christmas  presents;  but  beware, 

You'll  find  no  more  another  year.". 


mmnnuun 


BBSs — ; — im 


»■■  !_■  .  -  mn» 


J 


You'd    think    such    words    would 

surely  tend 
To  make  this  child  her  ways  amend. 
But  no;  she  still  her  course  pursued, 
Regardless  of  advice  so  good. 
But  when  her  mother  sees  'tis  plain 
That  all  her  arguments  are  vain, 
Says  she,  "Since  I  have  done  my 

best, 
I'll  let  experience  do  the  rest." 
Meantime  the  season  of    the  year 
For  Christmas  gifts  was  drawing 

near, 
And  Sophy  doubted  not  that  she 
An  ample  store  of  them  would  see. 

At  length  the  happy  hour  was  come, 
The  children,  led  into  a  room, 
Behold,  with  wonder  and  surprise, 
Three  tables  set  before  their  eyes. 
One  is  for  Nelly,  one  for  Ned, 
And  both  with  choicest  treasures 

spread. 
The  other  table  is  left  bare, 
And    see,    poor   Sophy's    standing 

there. 
"You  see,  my  loves,"  their  father 

said, 
"Kriss  Kringle  has  the  difference 

made, 
Which  oft  we  told  you  that  he  would , 
Between  the  naughty  and  the  good.". 


(] 


J 


ENVIOUS  MSNNY 


Now  Minny  was  a  pretty  girl, 
Her  hair  so  gracefully  did  curl; 
She  had  a  slender  figure,  too, 
And  rosy  cheeks,  and  eyes  of  blue. 

And  yet,  with  all  those  beauties  rare, 
Those  angel  eyes  and  curly  hair, 
Oh!  many,  many  faults  had  she, 
The  worst  of  which  was  jealousy. 

When  on  the  shining  Christmas  tree 
St.  Nicholas  hung  his  gifts  so  free, 
The  envious  Minny  could  not  beer 
With  any  one  these  gifts  to  share. 


And  when  her  sisters'  birthdays  came, 
Minny  (it  must  be  told  with  shame) 
Would  envy  every  pretty  thing 
Which  clear  mamma  to  them  would  bring. 

Sometimes  great  tears  rolled  from  her  eyes, 
Sometimes  she  pierced  the  air  with  cries, 
For  days  together  she  would  fret 
Because  their  toys  she  could  not  get. 

Ah,  then!  how   changed   this   pretty  child 
No  longer  amiable  and  mild, 
That  fairy  form  and  smiling  face 
Lost  all  their  sprightliness  and  grace. 


Her  tender  mother  often  sighed, 
And  to  reform  her  daughter  tried; 
"Oh!   Minny,  Minny,"  she  would  say, 
"  Quite  yellow  you  will  turn  some  day." 


€^ 


Now  came  the  merry  Christmas  feast; 
St.  Nicholas  brought  to  even  the  least 
Such  pretty  presents,  rich  and  rare, 
But  all  the  best  for  Minny  were. 


But  Minny  was  not  satisfied, 
She  pouted,  fretted,  sulked,  and  cried; 
Sisters  and  brothers  had  no  rest, — 
She  vowed  their  presents  were  the  best. 


°WTf^ 


Now,  to  her  little  sister  Bess 
St.  Nicholas  brought  a  yellow  dress; 
This  Minny  longed  for  (envious  child) 
And  snatched  it  from  her  sister  mild. 

Then  all  in  tears  did  Bessy  run 
To  tell  her  mother  what   was   done, 
While  Minny  ran  triumphantly 
To  try  the  dress  on,  as  you  see. 


And  springing  quickly  to  the  glass, 
What  saw  she  there?   alas!   alas! 
Oh!   what  a  sad,  a  deep  disgrace! 
She  found  she  had  a  yellow  face. 

"Ah,  me!"  she  cried,  now,  in  despair, 
"Where  are  my  rosy  cheeks — oh,  where?" 
"Ho!"  screamed  the  parrot,  "nowyousee 
The  punishment  of  jealousv!" 


THE  HISTORY   OF  THE   DIRTY   CHILD 


The  little  girls  whom  here  you  see 
Were  sisters  in  one  family; 
And  both  enjoyed  an  equal  share 
Of  a  kind  mother's  anxious  care. 


The  one  in  neatness  took  a  pride, 
And  oft  the  brush  and  comb  applied; 
Oft  washed  her  face,  and  oft  her  hands; 
See,  now,  thus  occupied  she  stands. 


The  other — oh!   I  grieve  to  say 
How  she  would  scream  and  run  away, 
Soon  as  she  saw  her  mother  stand 
With  water  by,  and  sponge  in  hand. 
She'd  kick,  and  stamp,  and  jump  about, 
And  set  up  such  an  awful  shout, 
That  one  who  did  not  know  the  child, 
Would  say  she  must  be  going  wild. 


In  consequence  it  came  to  pass, 
While  one  was  quite  a  pretty  lass 
And  many  a  fond  admirer  gained, 
And  many  a  little  gift  obtained; 
The  other,  viewed  with  general  scorn, 
Was  left  forsaken  and  forlorn; 
For  no  one  can  endure  to  see 
A  child  all  dirt  and  misery. 


Behold  how  needful  'tis  that  we 
Should  clean  in  dress  and  person  bej 
Or  else,  believe  me,  'tis  in  vain 
We  hope  affection  to  obtain. 
A  sloven  will  be  always  viewed 
With  pity  by  the  wise  and  good; 
While  ev'n  the  vicious  and  the  base 
Behold  with  scorn  a  dirty  face. 


CRUEL  PAUL 


*£a«<^* 


Now  see,  my  dears,  this  naughty  child, 
Oh!   does  he  not  look  fierce  and  wild? 
Well,  this  is  just  the  very  way 
Paul  went  about  from  day  to  day. 


But,  oh!   my  children,  see  him  here, 

His  turn  came  soon  to  quake  with  fear. 

One  summer's  day,  with  one  accord, 

The  creatures  gave  him  his  reward: 

The  cat  sprang  up,  and  scratched  his  nose; 

The  rats  came  out  and  gnawed  his  toes; 

The  dogs  flew  at  his  legs  and  back; 

The  geese  came  waddling — quack !  quack !  quack ! 

And  even  the  crows  that  you  see  there, 

Flew  down  and  pulled  him  by  the  hair. 

The  chickens  tried  to  pick  his  eyes; 


And  katydids,  and  bees,  and  flies, 

Came  streaming  out  from  all  the  trees, 

This  cruel  boy  to  sting  and  tease. 

He  struggled,  fought  with  all  his  might, 

But  still  the  creatures  held  him  tight. 

"Oh!  no,"  cried  they,  "you'll  not  go  free, 

You  shall  repent  your  cruelty. 

No  more  dumb  creatures  you'll  torment, 

To  punish  you  we  now  are  bent. " 

They  stung,  they  bit  him  foot  and  head, 

Nor  left  him  till  he  fell  quite  dead. 


SLOVENLY   BETSY 


Betsy  would  never  wash  herself 
When  from  her  bed  she  rose, 

But  just  as  quickly  as  she  could 
She  hurried  on  her  clothes. 

To  keep  her  clothes  all  nice  and  clean 

Miss  Betsy  took  no  pains; 
In  holes  her  stockings  always  were, 

Her  dresses  filled  with  stains. 


Sometimes  she  went  day  after  day 
And  never  combed  her  hair, 

While  little  feathers  from  her  bed 
Stuck  on  it  here  and  there. 

The  schoolboys,  when  they  Bets,y  saw, 
Would  point  her  out,  and  cry, 

"  Oh !  Betsy,  what  a  sight  you  are ! 
Oh!   Slovenly  Betsy,  fie!" 


One  rainy  day  her  parents  went 
Some  pleasant  friends  to  meet; 

They  took  Miss  Betsy  with  them, 
And  dressed  her  clean  and  neat. 


Nice  little  boys  and  girls  were  there, 
With  whom  our  Betsy  played, 

Until  of  playing  she  grew  tired, 
And  to  the  garden  strayed. 


Out  in  the  rain  she  danced  awhile, 

But  'twas  not  long  before 
Flat  down  she  tumbled  in  the  mud, 
.     And  all  her  nice  clothes  tore. 

Oh!   what  a  sight  she  was,  indeed, 

When  in  the  room  she  came; 
The  guests  all  loudly  laughed  at  her, 

And  she  almost  died  with  shame. 

She  turned,  and  to  her  home  she  ran, 

And,  just  as  here  you  see, 
She  washed  her  clothes,  and  since  has  been 

As  neat  as  she  could  be. 


PHOEBE  ANN,  THE  PROUD  GIRL. 


This  Phoebe  Ann  was  a  very  proud  girl, 
Her  nose  had  always  this  upward  curl — 
She  thought  herself  better  than  all  beside, 
And  beat  the  peacock  himself  in  pride. 
She  thought  the  earth  so  dirty  and  brown, 
That  she  never,  b}r  any  chance,  looked  down ; 
And  held  her  head  so  very  high 
That  her  neck  began  to  stretch,  bye  and  bye — 
It  stretched  and  it  stretched,  and  it  grew  so 

long, 
That  her  parents  thought  something  must  be 

wrong — 
It  stretched  and  stretched,   and  they  soon 

began 
To  look  up  with  fear  at  their  Phoebe  Ann. 
They  prayed  her  to  stop  her  upward  gaze, 
But  Phoebe  kept  on  in  her  old  proud  ways; 
At  last  it  grew  so  long  and  spare, 
That  her  head  was  more  than  this  neck  could 

bear — 
And  it  bent  to  the  ground,  like  a  willow  tree, 
And  brought  down  the  head  of  this  proud 

Phoefre. 
Whenever  she  went  out,  a  walk  to  take, 
The    boys    would    holbr,     "  Here    comes    a 

snake!" 
And  it  got  so  heavy  a  load  to  drag  on, 
She  had  to  push  her  head  about  on  a  little 

wagon. 
So  don't  you  hold  }^our  head  too  high, 
Or  your  neck  may  stretch  too,  bye  and  bye. 


DISCONTENTED     LUCY. 


^   **  jfc> 


Lucy  was  restless  and  tired  of  her  home, 

She  sulked  and  she  pouted,  and  wanted  to  roam 

Because  Katy's  wax  doll  had  a  bright  blue  eye, 

And  lived  in  a  baby  house  four  stories  high, 

All  furnished  with  tables,  and  stoves,  and  chairs, 

With  carpets,  and  candles,  and  kitchen  wares; 

While  Jane  had  a  bird  that  could  almost  speak, 

And  Betty  had  tea  parties  every  week; 

Susan  had  candy  whenever  she  chose, 

And  Mary  Ann  wore  the  most  splendid  clothes; 

Nelly's  mamma  in  a  carriage  rode, 

While  Lucy's  mother  baked,  scrubbed,  and  sewed; 

Patty's  papa  could  to  Newport  go, 

While  Lucy's  had  daily  to  handle  the  hoe: 

So  she  envied  her  friends  their  grand  estate, 

And  fretted  and  cried  at  her  own  sad  fate. 

Under  a  tree  she  was  sitting  one  day, 

While  her  work  in  her  lap  neglected  lay — 

"Hoho!  ho! — ho!"  with  a  voice  of  glee, 

Came  from  the  topmost  branch  of  the  tree, 

Where  was  perched  a  black  and  shiny  crow, 

Looking  at  Lucy  down  below. 

"What  do  3rou  want?  you  ugly  bird!" 

"Ho!— ho!  he!— he!"     Twas  thus  she  heard— 

"  Come  with  me,  come  with  me, 

Lucy,  if  you  wish  to  see 

All  on  earth  that  is  good  and  pretty — 

Great  dolls  with  eyes  that  roll  about, 

That  talk,  and  cry,  and  smile,  and  pout; 

Mountains  of  candy  shining  as  gold, 

With  pink  stripe  and  yellow,  you  shall  behold; 

Oceans  of  jam — pots  of  honey — 

Plenty  of  sugar  and  plenty  of  money; 

And  you  shall  play, 

The  livelong  day, 
With  toys  of  all  kinds  that  are  nicest  for  you, 
No  school,  no  task,  and  nothing  to  do; 


For  my  master,  Gobhoblin,  loves  little  girls  dear, 
And  to  pick  up  some  nice  one  has  sent  me  here. 
Come  on,  pretty  Lucy,  and  fear  no  disaster, 
Let  me  take  you  to  see  Gobhoblin,  my  master; 
I'll  hop  from  the  tree,  and  you  jump  on  my  tail, 
And  I'll  carry  you  to  him  without  any  fail." 

So  on  she  jumped,  away  they  flew — 
Clap— clap — rattle — rattle — without  more  ado. 
They  flew  so  fast,  and  they  flew  so  high, 
That  they  soon  got  very  far  into  the  sky — 

They  flew  so  fast, 

The  town  they  passed, 
And  got  into  the  fields  where  the  tall  trees  grew, 
While  above  their  heads  there  was  nothing  but 

blue ; 
But  the  trees  looked  glum,  and  seemed  to  say, 
"Oh!  you  naughty  bad  girl  for  running  away !" 

Then  Lucy  was  sorry  for  what  she  had  done, 
And  wished  very  much  that  she  had  not  gone, 
And  begged  the  crow  to  take  her  home 
To  her  father's  and  mother's  quiet  room; 
But  although  she  cried  till  her  eyes  were  red, 
Still  "Caw!  caw!  caw!"  was  all  he  said. 
"We'll  stop,"  added  he,  "for  a  moment  or  so, 
To  visit  my  lady  the  good  Madam  Crow, 
Who  fives  on  that  tree, 
Over  there  that  you  see, 
With  all  my  little  family." 

With  terror  and  with  fright  oppressed, 

Lucy  was  glad  enough  to  rest 

By  the  side  of  the  dark  and  dreary  nest. 

Now  two  hunters  out  for  sport  that  day, 
Happened  to  pass  along  that  way; 


The  one  was  thin,  with  a  stove-pipe  hat, 
The  other  was  short,  and  dumpy,  and  fat, 
With  very  low  shoes  and  very  tight  clothes, 
And  a  large  pair  of  spectacles  over  his  nose; 
They  had  but  one  gun  which  they  carried  between 

'em, 
And  looked  so  droll,  you'd  have  laughed  had  you 
seen  'em. 

"Oh,  what  a  shot! 

See  what  we've  got! 

A  great  black  Crow! 

Don't  let  him  go! 

Rest  the  gun  on  my  shoulder!" 

Said  the  shorter  and  bolder; 

"  Come,  fire  away ! 

Don't  lose  all  day!" 
Slap — bang!  the  gun  popped, 
Down — down  the  bird  dropped— 
And  Lucy  too,  with  a  fearful  bound, 
Tumbling  and  rolling  fell  to  the  ground. 

The  men  rubbed  their  eyes, 

And  showed  great  surprise — 

When  they  looked  at  her  head 

They  thought  she  was  dead — 
But  soon  they  heard  poor  Lucy  speak, 
In  such  a  tiny  little  squeak — 
"Oh!  no— I  ain't  dead;  just  rub  off  the  dirt, 
And  you'll  find  I  am  only  a  little  hurt : 
I'm  such  a  bad  girl — I  ran  away — 
Oh!  take  me  home — I  beg — I  pray." 
So  they  took  her  home,  where  she  is  to  this  day, 
A  proof  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say; 
And  a  lesson  to  all  little  girls  who  fret 
And  worry  for  things  that  they  cannot  get, 
Not  to  envy  their  playfellows'  clothes  or  toys, 
Or  the  richer  estate  that  she  enjoys, 
For  that  was  the  way  that  Lucy,  you  know, 
Was  carried  away  by  that  great  black  Crow. 


IDLE     FRITZ. 


Fritz  was  an  idle  boy,  indeed; 
He  would  not  learn  to  write  or  read; 
An  ugly  face  he  always  made; 
His  parents,  too,  he  disobeyed; 
And  mischief  was  the  chief  employ 
Of  this  poor,  foolish,  idle  boy. 
Look  at  this  picture  now,  my  dear, 
And  see  what  he  is  doing  here; 
He  holds  his  sister  by  the  braid, 
And  beats  the  frightened  little  maid. 
She  begs,  her  tears  flow  down  like  rain ; 


Fritz  only  laughs  to  see  her  pain. 

This  cat  and  bird,  here  lying  dead, 

He  caught  and  knocked  them  in  the  head. 

He  took  from  off  the  fence  a  rail, 

And  tied  it  to  poor  Carlo's  tail; 

And,  oh!  'twould  take  me  many  da3"s 

To  tell  you  all  his  wicked  ways. 

He  for  his  parents  nothing  cared, 

Therefore,  to  cure  him  they  despaired: 

And,  finding  they  could  bear  no  more, 

They  whipped  and  drove  him  from  their  door. 


fix 


'Twas  winter  time — the  snow  fell  fast, 
And  fiercely  blew  the  wintry  blast; 
Fritz  shook  with  cold  from  head  to  toe, 
And  knew  not  now  where  he  should  go. 


But  presently  a  cave  he  spied; 
"Oh!  there  I'll  refuge  take,"  he  cried. 
Alas!  alas!  he  did  not  know 
That  there  he'd  meet  a  cruel  foe. 


A  wolf  had  made  this  cave  his  den; 
Fritz  never  saw  the  light  again. 


SIMPLE     HANS. 


'Tis  Simple  Hans  that  here  you  see, 
The  picture  of  stupidity. 
His  coat  is  on  wrong  side  before, 
His  book  is  thrown  upon  the  floor; 
His  father  gave  him  yesterday 
This  pretty  horse  with  which  to  play; 
See  how  he  holds  it!  awkward  clown, 
Its  heels  are  up,  its  head  is  down. 
Oh!  if  it  were  alive,  my  dear, 


How  terribly  'twould  plunge  and  rear: 
And,  I  declare,  I'd  just  as  soon 
Go  up  and  ask  the  man  in  the  moon 
To  please  to  play  on  that  trumpet  a  tune, 
As  I  would  ask  Hans  to  play — the  loon! 
And  then,  too,  see  that  foolish  stare. 
Ala!  do,  my  little  ones,  take  care 
That  nobody,  by  any  chance, 
Can  call  you  Little  Simple  Hans. 


HEEDLESS    HUGO. 


This  Hugo  was  a  heedless  child, 

In  mischief  everywhere; 
For  him  there  was  no  prank  too  wild 


Or  dangerous  to  dare. 


One  day  he  saw  a  pile  of  wood, 
And  up  he  climbed,  so  bold; 

The  logs  gave  way  while  there  he  stood, 
And  down,  down,  down  he  rolled. 


And  once,  when  in  a  neighbor's  yard 

Our  Hugo  was  at  play, 
He  to  the  watch-dog's  kennel  ran, 

And  snatched  his  food  away. 


Poor  Carlo  growled  and  struggled 
Until  he  burst  his  chain; 

Then,  at  our  Hugo's  leg  he  flew, 
And  made  him  shriek  with  pain. 


One  day  he  cried,  "  Come,  children,  oh ! 

Come  see  how  high  I'll  jump." 
He  sprang  the  rope,  but  caught  his  toe, 

And  on  his  nose  came  plump. 


He  to  the  river  one  day  ran, — 
For  Hugo  nothing  feared, — 

Splash  in  he  went — the  little  man — 
And  quickly  disappeared. 


But  luckily  a  fisherman 

Was  standing  on  the  shore, 

Who  pushed  off  in  his  little  boat, 
And  held  to  him  his  oar. 


Oh!  didn't  Hugo  clutch  it  then? 

For,  though  he  ate  the  fish, 
That  they  should  try  and  swallow  him 

Was  not  at  all  his  wish. 


Hilt 


One  day  a  carpenter  was  sent 
The  old  church-steeple  to  repair, 

And  when  he  to  his  dinner  went 
He  left  his  ladder  hanging  there. 

Now  Hugo  happened  just  to  be 
That  very  moment  passing  by, 

"Oh,  dear!"  he  cried,  and  danced  with  glee, 
"  I'll  climb  that  ladder  there  so  high. " 

Then  to  the  steeple  up  he  flew, 

Crept  through  the  little  window  there; 

Climbed  up  the  little  ladder  too, 
And  made  the  little  swallows  stare. 


But,  oh!  the  ladder  slipped  and  fell, 
Just  as  he  reached  the  steeple  vane, 

And  Hugo — dreadful  tale  to  tell — 
Came  never  back  to  earth  again. 


THE  NIGHT  WANDERER. 


When  other  children  were  asleep 
Our  Oswald  down  the  stairs  would  creep, 
And  to  the  fields  he'd  steal  away, 
Quite  slyly  by  himself  to  play. 
Sometimes  he  took  the  powder-horn, 
Vy  And  with  the  powder  burnt  the  corn; 
Sometimes  he  hid  behind  a  tree, 
And,  rushing  out  quite  suddenly, 
Would  make  a  loud  and  fearful  cry, 
And  frighten  all  the  passers-by. 
Indeed,  it  was  his  chief  delight 
To  run  away  from  home  at  night. 
His  parents  shook  their  heads,  and  said, 
"Oh!   Oswald,  stay  at  home  in  bed, 
For  if  you  out  at  night  do  roam 
A  bat  you  surely  will  become." 
But  all  their  talking  was  in  vain; 
Still  Oswald  would  go  out  again; 
But,  oh!   just  as  his  friends  had  said, 
One  night,  as  round  the  fields  he  sped, 
Upon  him  came  a  wondrous  change; 
"Ah,  me!"  he  cried,  "How  very  strange! 
I  feel  that  I  become  so  small, — 
And  now — I  cannot  walk  at  all. 


I  put  my  hands  up  to  my  head, 

But  find  a  bat's  face  in  its  stead; — 

And  now — my  hands  are  gone.     Oh,  dear  I 

Instead  of  arms  what  have  I  here? 

Such  very,  very  curious  things. 

Why,  can  they  be?    Oh,  3res,  they're  wings. 

Alas!   alas!   what  shall  I  do? 

My  parents'  words  are  coming  true. 

An  ugly  bat  I  have  become, 

And  never  more  shall  I  go  home." 

Oh!  yes,  my  dears,  it  was  too  true; 
An  ugly  bat  away  he  flew; 
His  parents'  tears  streamed  down  like  rain; 
They  never  saw  their  child  again. 


NED  THE  TOY=BREAKER. 


Now  Christmas  comes  with  all  its  J03's, 
And,  0!  such  wondrous  pretty  toys 
Kriss  Kringle's  men  have  brought  to-night, 
That  you  would  marvel  at  the  sight. 

To  Neddy  e'en  too  many  things 

The  happy  night  of  Christmas  brings. 

There's,  first  of  all,  a  Christmas  tree, 

And,  hanging  from  it,  as  you  see, 

Of  lighted  tapers  many  a  score, 

And  apples  gilt  and  silvered  o'er; 

Whole  piles  of  dainty  gingerbread, 

And  plums,  and  sweetmeats  there  are  spread; 

And  Ned  is  such  a  happy  boy 

He's  fit  to  laugh  for  very  joy! 


A  golden  horse  he  finds  besides, 
Whose  back  a  soldier  bold  bestrides, 
A  trumpet  gilt — a  drummer  new, 
Who  beats  a  regular  tattoo, 
As  oft  the  handle  round  you  twist 
So  often  works  each  tiny  fist. 

Ned's  father  says:   "Now  mind,  dear  boy, 
And  while  these  presents  you  enjo)', 
Still  spoil  not  what  you  cannot  make, 
And  do  not  all  your  playthings  break." 

But  Ned  would  no  attention  pay — 
He  likes  to  spoil  as  well  as  play. 
He  breaks  the  trumpet  right  in  two — 
The  drummer's  handle  in  a  freak 
He  madly  turns,  and  makes  it  creak, 
Till  man  and  drum  to  pieces  go. 


The  fragments  form  a  heap  confused — 
Was  ever  drummer  more  ill-used? 
Here  lies  a  head  and  there  a  boot, 
And  here  the  drum  that's  henceforth  mute; 
And  here  a  sword  and  there  the  stand, 
And  drumsticks  but  without  a  hand. 
In  short,  such  ruin  has  been  wrought, 
As  though  a  battle  had  been  fought! 


And  when  Papa  the  mischief  spies, 
And  sees  the  broken  toys,  he  cries: 
"Why,  Ned,  is  this  the  care  you  take, 
When  told  to  play  and  not  to  break?" 


But  careless  Neddy  does  not  hear 
The  warning  voice  that  meets  his  ear; 
And  when  Papa  has  turned  his  back, 
Again  the  toys  go  snap  and  crack! 
The  horse  and  rider  both  are  dashed 
Upon  the  floor,  and  reckless  smashed; 
And  loud  the  soldier  cries  aghast: 
"Ah  me!   Ah  me!   I'm  dying  fast!" 


Now  in  the  Christmas  fairies  trip, 
And  from  the  tree  the  apples  strip, 
They  take  the  horse  and  gingerbread, 
And  all  the  playthings  spoilt  by  Ned, 
And  with  the  broken  fragments  make 
A  substance  which  they  knead  and  bake 
And  by-and-by,  when  duly  warm, 
Into  a  giant  nose  they  form, — 
Full  six  feet  long,  and  very  thick, 
Which  on  to  Neddy's  face  they  stick; 
And  henceforth,  with  this  hideous  snout- 
Must  Neddy  live  and  go  about. 


PRYING  WILL. 

Will  so  delights  to  peep  and  pry, 

That  all  about  the  house  he  goes, 
Upstairs  and  down,  from  low  to  high, — 

And  everywhere  he  pokes  his  nose. 


Into  the  kitchen  now  he  comes, 
Where,  that  same  morn,  with  luscious  plums, 
Made  into  jam,  and  still  quite  hot — 
The  cook  had  filled  a  giant  pot. 


Will  must,  of  course,  remove  the  lid 
To  see  what  treasures  there  lie  hid, 
When — losing  his  balance — up  he  trips, 
And  plump!   head-foremost  in  he  slips. 

His  feet  are  seen  above  the  rim, 
But  sure  the  pot  has  swallowed  him! 
And  buried  in  its  sweets  he  lies, 
That  fill  his  mouth  and  stop  his  cries 

But  cook  now  shrieks,  tho'  Will  is  dumb; 
His  startled  parents  quickly  come, 
And  drag  out  Billy  in  a  fright, 
Oh,  lack-a-day!   Oh,  what  a  sight! 

Blue  is  his  jacket,  shirt,  and  frill, 
And  blue  inside  and  out  is  Bill! 

So  blue,  so  blue — 

Thro'  life  he'll  rue 
The  foolish  prank  that  made  him  so; 
For  ne'er  away  the  stain  would  go- 
But  blue  face,  neck,  and  hands  remained, 
And  thus  the  name  of  Prying  Bill  he  gained  I 


THE   LITTLE   GLUTTON. 


Oh!   how  this  Mary  loved  to  eat, — 

It  was  her  chief  delight; 
She  would  have  something,  sour  or  sweet, 

To  munch  from  morn  till  night. 

She  to  the  pantry  daily  stole, 

And  slyly  she  would  take 
Sugar,  and  plums,  and  sweetmeats,  too, 

And  apples,  nuts,  and  cake. 


Her  mother  Mar}*  oft  reproved, 

But,  ah!   it  did  no  good; 
Munch,   nibble,   chew,  from  morn  to  night, 


The  little  glutton  would. 


One  day,  upon  some  bee-hives  near 
She  chanced  to  cast  her  eyes; 

"How  nice  that  honey  there  must  taste!' 
She  cried,  and  off  she  flies. 

On  tiptoe  now  the  hives  she  nears, 
Close  up  to  them  she  creeps, 

And  tnrough  the  little  window  panes 
Quite  cautiously  she  peeps. 


"Oh,  dear!   how  good  it  looks!"  she  cries, 

As  she  the  honey  sees; 
"I  must,  I  will,  indeed,  have  some; 

It  cannot  hurt  the  bees." 

And  now  a  hive  she  gently  lifts, — 

Oh,  foolish,  foolish  child — 
Down,  down  it  falls — out  swarm  the  bees, 

Buzzing  with  fury  wild. 


With  fright  she  shrieks,  and  tries  to  run, 

But,  ah!   'tis  all  in  vain; 
Upon  her  light  the  angry  bees, 

And  make  her  writhe  with  pain. 


Four  weeks  and  more  did  Mary  lie 

Upon  her  little  bed, 
And,  ah!  instead  of  honey,  she 

On  medicine  was  fed. 


Her  parents  grieved  much  at  first 

Their  child  so  sick  to  see; 
But  once  more  well,  with  joy  they  found 

Her  cured  of  gluttony. 


Tomoa&jc^ 


~+±+*?%m©&****~ 


Tom  Bogus  did,  the  naughty  boy, 
What  you,  I  hope  do  not — 
His  sole  delight,  by  morn,  by  night, 

Was  in  the  sugar-pot; 
For  he  could  eat,  all  by  himself, 

A  lump  of  such  large  size, 
'Twould  take  two  days  to  view  it  round, 

Though  straining  both  your  eyes. 
His  coffee  ne'er  was  sweet  enough, 

E'en  had  he  sixteen  lumps; 
And  if  they  had  no  more  to  give 

Would  get  into  the  dumps. 

His  mother,  early  in  the  morn, 

Would  go  and  fill  the  bowl, 
By  half-past  one,  it  all  was  gone — 

He'd  eaten  up  the  whole! 


His  father  groaned  and  tore  his  hair, 

It  wrung  his  heart  and  purse; 
But  greedy  Tommy  had  no  care, 

But  kept  on  getting  worse. 
Molasses,  sugar,  or  rock  candy — 

So  that  it  tasted  good  and  sweet- 
He  stole  whenever  it  came  handy, 

And  in  a  corner  sneaked  to  eat. 

Such  toothaches  sugar  caused  to  Tom. 

I  hope  you  ne'er  may  feel; 
The  dentist  was  obliged  to  come 

And  make  this  Tommy  squeal. 


He  soiled  his  pants  with  dirty  barrels, 

Sucking  molasses  through  a  straw — ■ 
And  fought  Ms  sister,  naughty  quarrels! 

If  it  was  stopped  and  would  not  draw. 
At  last,  the  juice  came  through  his  pores, 

And  covered  his  skin  with  a  sticky  slime, 
Till  the  bees  and  the  flies  flew  about  him  in 
scores, 

And  sucked  at  his  body  all  the  time: 
They    bit,    they    scratched,     tormented,    and 
stung  him, 

Till  he  had  no  rest  by  night  or  daj~. 
Hie  schoolmates  ran  when  he  came  among  them, 

So  he  never  could  get  a  chance  to  play. 
At  length  his  body  became  all  sugar — 

He  had  no  blood,  nor  flesh,  nor  bones — 
And  got  so  soft,  that  when  you  touched  him, 

It  made  him  cry  with  fearful  moans. 

One  day  when  walking  in  the  streets, 

A  heavy  rain  began  to  fall, 
And  washed  and  drenched  his  body  of  sweets, 

Till  it  melted  him  down  to  nothing  at  all — 
He  ran  away  like  softened  butter, 

When  before  the  fire  it  is  put  to  warm — 
The  pigs  and  the  dogs  ate  him  up  in  the  gutter, 

And  this  was  the  end  of  Sugary  Tom. 


JIMMY  SLIDERLEGS 


I  guess  there  ain't  one  little  boy 

Of  all  who  read  these  lines — 
Who  to  sliding  down  the  bannisters, 

Won't  own  that  he  inclines; 
They  think  it's  like  the  steam  engine, 

Or  like  a  bird  a  flying, 
Until  they  split  their  heads  in  two. 

And  then  they  fall  a  crying. 
Now  all  you  sliders  hark  to  me — 

Listen,  your  uncle  begs — 
While  he  recites  the  sad  story 

Of  Jimmy  Sliderlegs. 
Jimmy  was  alwa}rs  on  the  stairs, 

By  morns,  by  eves,  by  noons — 
He  wore  out  thirteen  splendid  pairs 

Of  bran-new  pantaloons; 
He  bunged  his  eyes — he  hurt  his  nose — 

His  father  lectured  him  quite  strongly- 
Gave  him  a  beating  of  hard  blows — 

But  Jimmy  went  on  sliding  wrongly, 
And  spoiled  no  end  of  costly  clothes. 

He  stretched  his  legs  so  far  apart 
By  such  a  frequent  strain, 

That  it  took  all  the  Doctor's  art 
To  get  them  back  again. 


One  day  his  parents  out  had  gone 

To  see  a  friend  who'd  come  from  France, 
And  Jimmy  being  quite  alone, 

Thought  for  a  slide  this  was  his  chance, 
He  mounted  to  the  highest  story, 

He  clasped  the  bannisters  around — 
He  gave  a  cry  of  " Hooray I   Glory!" 

And  on  the  rail  jumped  with  a  bound — 
Down!   down  he  went — now  quick,  now  quicker — - 

He  went  so  fast,  he  could  not  see — 
The  turns  first  make  him  sick,  then  sicker — 

His  head  began  to  whirl!  Ah  me! 

Just  like  a  windmill's  sails  a-turning, 

He  twisted,  tumbled,  turned  and  twirled — 

His  arms  and  legs  flew  far  asunder! 
His  body  on  the  floor  was  hurled! 

He  turned  so  fast  that  his  head  came  off— 
And  his  arms! 

And  his  legs!  ! 

Like  so  many  pegs!  !  ! 

Flew  about  in  the  air!  !  !  ! 

Now  here!   now  there!  !  !  !  ! 

And  all  that  was  left,  was  a  lock  of  his  hair !  !  !  !  I 


HarPvyGo&us 


AND   THE   SHANG  =  HAIS 


Young  Harry  Cobus  lived  in  town 

And  when  the  summer  came, 
Went  out  to  visit  Uncle  Brown, 

Who  lived  in  Pudding  Lane. 
Harry,  who  in  a  city  lived, 

Knew  nothing  of  the  fields — 
Grew  wild  with  joy,  and  leaped  and  kicked, 

And  threw  up  both  his  heels — 
Into  the  farm-yard  quick  he  went, 

And  opened  both  his  eyes, 
To  see  the  oxen  and  the  cows, 

And  the  long-legged  Shang-hais. 
Now  Harry  was  a  cruel  boy, 

Nor  cared  for  others'  pain, 
So  long  as  he  could  have  his  fun, 

You'd  mercy  seek  in  vain. 
"Oh!   ho!"    said  he,     "my    long-legged    chick, 

With  those  big  legs  of  yours, 
You  ought  to  run  uncommon  quick, 

Let's  see  you  show  your  power." 
With  that  he  raised  a  monstrous  stone, 

And  threw  it  at  one's  head — 
He  fell  right  down,  the  others  ran, 

And  left  their  comrade  dead. 


Now  when  this  deed  his  Uncle  heard, 

He  wept,  and  moaned,  and  cried, 
For  it  was  his  pet  darling  bird 

That  thus  had  fallen  and  died. 
But  soon  the  birds  came  running  back, 

A  large  and  angry  crowd — 
On  Harry  cast  their  great  big  eyes, 

And  crowed  and  cackled  loud; 
About  him  now  they  clustered  fast, 

They  circled  him  around, 
Till  frightened,  trembling,  he  at  last 

FeU  flat  upon  the  ground. 
The  biggest  bird,  with  a  great  gobble, 

Then  caught  him  by  his  pantaloons, 
And  ran,  as  fast  as  he  could  hobble, 

Despite  poor  Harry's  shrieks  and  groans; 
He  took  him  to  the  carter's  pot, 

All  full  of  grease  and  nasty  tar, 
And  dipped  him  in,  and  rolled  him  till 

He  got  as  sticky  as  candies  are. 
He  took  him  then  unto  his  nest 

And  rolled  him  there,  till  the  feathers  sticking 
All  over  his  head,  and  neck,  and  breast, 

Just  made  him  look  like  a  Shang-hai  chicken. 
They  put  him  then  upon  the  eggs — 

Of  which  there  was  a  monstrous  batch — 
And  made  him  sit  with  his  crooked  legs, 

With  at  least  a  hundred  eggs  to  hatch. 
Two  great  big  roosters  stand  to  watch, 

To  see  that  he  don't  run  away; 
And  there  he  sets  on  that  old  nest, 

I  do  believe  to  this  very  day. 


THE  HISTORY  OF  DOCTOR  WANGO   TANGO. 


Old  Doctor  Wango  Tango, 

Had  a  long  red  nose; 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Always  wore  green  clothes; 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 
Lived  by  himself  all  alone; 
When  he  went  out  to  ride, 
He  sat  astride 
Of  a  steed  all  skin  and  bone. 

Old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Also  had  a  cat, 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Let  her  sleep  in  his  hat; 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 
Wore  a  big  red  cloak; 
And  he  had  a  long  pipe, 
Like  the  bill  of  a  snipe, 
Which  he  often  used  to  smoke. 


Old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Had  a  dog  also; 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Had  a  tame  black  crow; 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 
Called  his  thin  horse  Sam; 
His  dog's  name  was  Towser, 
And  his  cat's  name  was  Mouser, 
And   the   crow's   name   was   Flippity   Flam. 


Now  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Lived  on  a  biscuit  a  day, 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Got  very  light  this  way; 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 
Gave  his  animals  nothing  to  eat, 
Though  it  sometimes  came  to  pass, 
That  they  found  a  little  grass, 
Or  a  crust,  or  a  bone  without  meat. 

Now  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Went  out  one  day  to  ride, 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Had  Towser  running  by  his  side; 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 
Had  Mouser  sitting  behind, 
And  Flippity  Flam 
Flew  around  old  Sam: 
Such  a  party  you'll  seldom  find. 

Now  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Rode  to  the  top  of  a  hill, 
And  old  Doctor  Wango  Tango 

Found  the  wind  very  high  and  chill — 
Away  blew  old  Doctor  Tango! 

Away  blew  his  thin  horse  Sam! 
Away  blew  Towser  and  Mouser! 

And  the  black  crow,  Flippity  Flam! 


THE  TRAGICAL  STORY  OF  MAMMY 
KATCHEM  AND  HER  KITTENS 


Old  Mammy  Katchem,  a  worthy  old  cat, 

Lived  in  a  box  lined  with  hay; 
She    could    face,    without    winking,  the     wickedest 

rat — 
With   a   snap    of   her   teeth     she    would   soon   lay 
him  flat, 

In  a  true  fighting,  Tabby-cat  way. 
Old  Mammy  Katchem  had  three  little  kits — 

Tommykin,  Pussy,  and  Bunch — 
She   gave   them   a  mouse,    pulled   into   small   bits, 

Every  day  before  dinner  for  lunch; 
They  usually   dined   on   what   they   could   get— 

What  their  Mammy  could  beg,  catch,  or  steal — 
And  it  mattered  but  little  how  often  they  ate, 

They  were  always  keen  for  a  meal. 
Bunch  was  a  kitten  with  great  staring  eyes; 

Puss  was  most  frisky  of  friskers; 
And  Tommykin's  points  were  his  musical  cries, 

And  thickness  and  length  of  his  whiskers. 
One  day,  Mammy  Katchem  abroad  would  go, 

To  hunt  up  something  for  dinner — 
For  kittens  must  eat,  like  children,  you    know, 

Or  else     they  get  thinner  and  thinner. 


So   she   put   on  her   bonnet   and   sharpened   her 
claws, 

And  though  the  three  children  looked  glum, 
She   bade   them   keep    close   in   the   house — be- 
cause, 

If  they  didn't,  to  grief  they'd  come — 
For  a  great  savage  dog  lived  just  next  door — 

A  dog  without  any  feelings — 
Who    would    eat    three    kittens,    and    bark    for 
more, 

In  spite  of  their  scratchings  and  squealings; 
And  a  dirty  old  man  lived  down  the  lane, 

Who  was  fond  fo  savory  stews — ■ 
And  people  did  say,  that  time  and  again, 

They  had  heard  in  his  house  painful  mews — 
Then  kissing  them  all,  she  went  on  her  way 

To  a  barn  in  the  neighborhood, 
Where  the  corn-fed  mice  made  nests  in  the  hay 

And  grew  very  fat  and  good. 
Now  Tommykin  was  a  kitten  wild, 

More  apt  to  do  wrong  than  right; 
And  what  do  you  think  this  naughty  child 

Did — when  Mammy  was  out  of  sight? 


Why,  lie  said  he  was  going  out  for  a  run, 

And  that  Pussy  and  Bunch  must  come  too — 
Shut  up  in  that  box,  they  could  have  no  fun, 

And  there  was  no  danger  he  knew. 
Pussy  said,  at  once,  that  she  would  not  go; 

But  Bunch,  who  was  rather  weak, 
And  never  could  say,  decidedly,  "No!" 

Agreed — though  she  felt  like  a  sneak. 
So  they  left  the  box,  and  away  they  ran, 

In  a  scampering  kind  of  race, 
But  the  dog  soon  saw  them — and  then  began 

A  very  exciting  chase : 
Bunch  ran  this  way — Tommykin  that, — 

Old  Growler  chased  Bunch  alone — 
For  he  thought  she  looked  like  the  tenderest  cat, 

He  e'er  in  his  life  had  known. 
She  reached   the    box — caught    the    side    with   her 
claws, 

And  got  in,  by  an  active  jump; 
But  the  dog  caught  her  tail  in  his  cruel  jaws, 

And  pulled  it  all  off,  but  the  stump! 


Tommykin  ran  down  the  dirty  lane, 

Where  the  dirty  old  man  soon  caught  him, 
And,  alas!  he  never  was  seen  again, 

Though  his  Mammy  carefully  sought  him. 
The  dirty  old  man  had  a  feast  that  day, 

On  pepper-pot  soup  he  dined; 
And  after  that  dinner,  the  neighbors  say, 

If  you  looked,  you  could  easily  find 
Before  his  door, 
A  dozen  or  more 
Of  little,  well  picked,  white  kitten  bones, 
Lying  about  on  the  pavement  stones! 

His  mother  and  sisters  mourned  for  him  long, 
And  Bunch  ne'er  again  did  an}rthing  wrong; 
For  whenever  she  wanted  to  disobey, 
She  thought  of  that  very  dreadful  day — 
When  she  lost  both  her  tail  and  her  little  brother- 
So  she  ever  after  obeyed  her  mother. 


'^Q 


TRUANT  PETER. 

Young  Peter  should  have  gone  to  school, 

But  stole  a  holiday; 
And  like  a  naughty  truant  boy, 

Ran  off  to  fish  and  play. 
The  teacher  found  that  he  was  gone, 

And  asked  his  cousin  Jane, 
"  Where  is  the  lazy  Peter  now? 

He  stays  from  school  again!" 
But  neither  Jane  nor  any  one 
Knew  where  the  naughty  boy  had  run. 


But  Peter  to  the  river  came, 

And  found  a  little  boat; 
So  jumping  in  he  took  the  oars, 

And  far  away  did  float. 

And  Peter  saw  beneath  the  flood, 
Bright  fishes,  great  and  small; 

And  thought,  as  every  schoolboy  would, 
He'd  like  to  catch  them  all. 


So  in  the  river  he  let  fall, 

A  baited  hook  and  twine; 
And  soon  the  largest  fish  of  all, 

Was  tugging  at  his  line. 
And  Peter  pulled  and  gave  a  shriek, 

And  caught  it  by  the  fin; 
But  Peter  was  too  small  and  weak, 

And  the  fish  soon  pulled  him  in; 
Down  with  the  fish  must  Peter  go — 
Down  to  the  other  fish  below! 


On  this  same  day,  not  far  away, 
Two  fishers  their  tackles  set; 
And  little  Peter  with  his  fish, 
Were  caught  in  the  same  great 
net. 
Their  lines  they  drew  the  water 
through, 
And  pulled  them  to  the  strand. 
And  thought   'twas  a  fish  with 
coat  and  hat, 
When  Peter  came  to  land. 


For  with  the  fishes,  great  and  small, 

Which  they  had  caught  that  day, 

Right  in  the  midst  among  them  all, 

The  naughty  Peter  lay: 
The  net,  by  chance,  had  caught  him 

round, 
Or    Peter    would    have    else    been 

drowned. 
So  mind,  ye  children,  what  I  say, 
Ne'er  while  you  live  the  truant  play, 
Or  something  worse  may  come  to 

you, 
Than  e'en  a  wetting  through  and 

through. 


THE  CROW=BIDDY. 


THERE  was  once  a  man  and  his  wife,  who 
one  fine  morning  found  an  egg.  "Well,"  said 
the     wife,     "wait     till     it     is     hatched  :     and     some 


beautiful  bird  will  certainly  come  from  it!" 


And  when  the  egg  was 
hatched,  what  did  they 
have  P---A  great  Chicken, 
and  a  very  naughty  one. 
But  the  man  and  his  wife 
said,  "  O    WHAT    A     LOVELY 

Bird!" 


And  the  Chicken 
began  to  crow 
and  make  a 
dreadful  noise. 
And  the  man  said 
---"  How  sweetly 
our      dear      Bird 


sings 


>? 


And  when  the 
Crow-Biddy  snatch- 
ed at  everything  on 
the  dinner-table,  and 
spilt  the  cream,  the 
good  wife  said, "What 
an  appetite  the  dear 
thing  has!" 


And  when 
he  tore  up 
his  school- 
books,  and 
threw  them 
away,  they 
said, "Oh!  our 
Pet  knows 
everything!" 


And  when 

he    broke    all 

the  plates  and 

dishes,   they 

said,  "HOW 
LIVELY  THE 
DEAR  THING 
IS!" 


After  a  time 
the  cock  beat 
the  man,  but 
he  only  said, 
Iff  "How  strong 
and  stout  he 
is  growing! ' 


One  day  the  cock  went 
into  the  street,  and  threw 
stones  at  the  lamps  and 
windows,  and  husband 
and  wife  both  said,  "In- 
deed there  is  nobody  like 
him  in  the  whole  town." 


But  then 
came  a  sol- 
dier, and 
caught  the 
cbck,  and 
lacked  h  i  m 
up  in  a  dark 
pflson.  This 
time  the  hus- 
band and  wife 
said  nothing. 


